


Into a World Unknown

by theletterelle



Category: Jug Face (2013)
Genre: Crueltide, Eldritch Abomination, F/M, Horror, M/M, Rocks Fall Everyone Dies, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/pseuds/theletterelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t even a jug. It was a plate, painted with a ring of trees seen from above, and glazed with a dark green wash that suggested deepest shadow. It made him cold to look at it. He must be going crazy, throwing and painting and firing without even seeing what he was doing. He didn’t have the excuse of the Pit. It wasn’t no one’s doing but his own, and if anyone saw it, there might be questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. Because it was the Pit’s clearing. But there wasn't no Pit to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spare Me Over Another

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/gifts).



> A mix for this fic can be found at [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/theletterelle/into-a-world-unknown-jug-face) or for download [here](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/5217130/Mixes/WorldUnknown.zip).

“Oh God, cold!” Tara shrieked as she surfaced, dripping wet and shivering. Her bikini top had dragged down, almost far enough to show off her nipples, and Drake couldn’t help looking. She scowled at him when she realized. “Dammit, Drake, this isn’t a peep show. Get your eyes back in your head.”

He grinned. On the rock above him, Dave whistled. “Take it off, baby!” he yelled, and Tara flipped him off. He laughed and turned up the sound system. The music echoed among the trees, and over on the other side of the creek, Scotty and Aaron began singing along.

“Beer!” called Melody. Janelle flipped the cooler open and handed her a can. Drake sat back against the bank and closed his eyes, breathing in the last of summer. Senior year. This wouldn’t be the last time they’d party at the creek, but there wouldn’t be many more. Graduation, definitely, and maybe a few times afterward, but Tara was going to be going to college, and maybe Scotty too, and they’d be busy getting ready. Besides, he’d be starting full-time at the store after graduating. He opened his eyes. Cassie was joining Tara in the water. They didn’t see him looking, so he stared at their bodies glistening wet and crossed his legs to hide his boner in case they looked back. Maybe they’d kiss. A guy could hope. They’d always been up in each other’s space, giggling and nudging each other since middle school. He bet they’d fooled around some, but he never caught them at it. Unfortunately.

“Drake,” said Melody. It sounded like she’d said his name more than once. He tore his eyes away from the girls in the creek. “Yeah?”

“Thought you might want a hit.” She handed him the joint she’d been smoking, and he gratefully sucked the smoke in and held it. When he finally exhaled, she giggled. “Come on up out of there. I got the munchies. There’s chips and salsa and cookies. And more beer. Come on.”

He climbed up the bank and grabbed the hand she offered to pull him out. He almost tugged her in, and she shrieked and yanked back. “Careful, you fucker, I don’t need to break my leg right before school starts.” She was laughing, not really angry, and he felt his heart beat a little faster. He followed her to the blankets spread out in the clearing. Tawnee was lying there, picking at a pan of brownies. Her eyes were glassy and she waved with a limp hand. “Hey,” she said breathily. “Want some?”

“That’s okay.” Drake had no problem with getting high, but with half the brownies gone, Tawnee must have been fucking _flying_. Melody scooped up the unopened bag of chips by Tawnee’s head and grabbed a handful, then offered it to Drake. He waved it away, not hungry yet, just sat down and took another hit. She sat beside him. Close. The hairs on his arm stood up. He grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and fumbled for some to cover up his confusion. She was so _close_. He hadn’t thought of her like that before, really, but he was thinking now, oh fuck was he thinking. Drake took another hit, then coughed. Melody pounded him on the back, but he waved her off. “I’m fine,” he said in between hacking breaths. Tawnee sighed a deep gusty sigh, then started humming a tuneless song.

When he could finally breathe again, he heard Diane’s unmistakable laugh. She and Mike came stumbling into the clearing. She was flushed, and Mike was grinning. “Cut it _out_ ,” she said, dodging a grab for her ass. “Not here. Oh! Shit!” She slid sideways on a scree of loose leaves.

Mike caught her. “You fall in that hole, I’m going to laugh my ass off. Fair warning.”

“Please tell me y’all weren’t fucking back in the woods,” Melody said.

“Shut up,” said Diane, flopping down and reaching for the chips. “No.”

“We were fucking up at the dead village,” said Mike. “Give me that joint.” Drake passed it over at the same time Melody wrinkled her nose and said “Gross.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Diane, but she was blushing more. She threw a handful of leaves at him. “We were just looking around and made out some.”

“You went up there?” Melody sounded almost scandalized. “No one’s supposed to go up there. All those empty falling-apart houses. Probably got raccoons nesting there. You could get rabies or something. Or step on a nail and get blood poisoning and tetanus and die.”

“Okay, mom,” said Mike. 

“And probably the windows are all broken and everything’s rotted away,” Melody went on. “If ghosts exist, that’s where they live. It’s creepy.”

“You want to talk about creepy,” said Diane, who was the only girl Drake had ever seen eat popcorn through three cannibal serial killer movies, “you should see this shed up there. It has all these jugs on shelves, like moonshine jugs.”

“Well, y’know, hillbillies and everything,” Drake said.

“But the thing is, each one has a face sculpted in it. It’s like all these heads, just _looking_ at you. I never saw anything so creepy in all my life.”

Drake frowned, but before he could say anything Melody said “That must’ve taken a lot of work. Who’d just up and leave it all behind?”

“They left everything behind,” Mike said. “Dishes, furniture, big-ass old cabinet TVs from a hundred years ago. Like the whole damn village just picked up and went.”

“Maybe they were sick of being backwoods,” said Diane. “Or they didn’t like looking at all those damn faces.”

“Maybe they all got killed by rivals. Another cartel. A moonshine cartel,” Drake said.

“They didn’t leave,” said Tawnee. She sat up, her face flushed. “They were taken.”

Cicadas rattled in the tops of the trees, and for a second everyone stopped and looked at her. “Oh my God, you are so high,” said Melody. “Give me some of those brownies.”

Tawnee let her take the pan. “If they’d left, they would’ve taken their clothes. No, they got taken away.”

“By a moonshine cartel?”

“Shut up,” said Tawnee.

“How would you even know that?” said Mike. 

“My granddaddy talked to one of them, back before he was sheriff. He told me about it.”

“Your granddaddy is senile,” Drake pointed out.

“Before that,” said Tawnee patiently. “He told me the story. There was a boy, and he came into town, and then he died. Give me the brownies back.”

“That’s not much of a story,” Melody said, but she passed the pan back anyway.

“I can tell you the whole story if you want. It’s kind of long, though.”

“Might as well,” Diane said. “‘A boy came into town and died’ doesn’t really tell us much.”

“It’s creepy.”

“Nothing’s creepier than those heads. Let’s hear it.”

Tawnee sat up, crossed her legs, and grabbed Drake’s beer. “Okay. It started out with this boy…”


	2. This Land is Full of These Little Graves

Justus sat on the hillside and stared at the mound. Everyone had gone home to drink themselves stupid and sit in front of their TVs like a bunch of zombies. He didn’t want to leave just yet. Pa wouldn’t want to be alone, not yet. Justus swiped at his eyes. He wasn't supposed to be crying. Pa was in a better place, that’s what everyone said. Wasn't no reason to cry. It was his turn, was all. 

It was almost too dark to see when Mama came to find him. Justus didn’t say a word as she sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. “He wouldn’t want you to be sad,” she said after a while. 

“Yeah,” said Justus. 

“He’s happy now,” Mama said. “Happier’n he ever was. You don’t gotta be sad.”

Justus wanted to push her off him, but Mama was all he had left anymore. “I dunno if I believe that,” he said. 

“It’s true. Don’t matter if you believe me. He’s with the Pit now.” Her voice died away, and she fumbled with her cigarettes, finally sparking up the lighter and inhaling. The end glowed orange. When she spoke again it was almost a whisper. “And with her. Like he always wanted.”

Justus sniffed. “Her who?” he said to cover it up.

Mama stared at the dimming colors of the sky over the trees. “Her. Ada. She was... well. Wasn't no better than she should’ve been. Selfish. Bad. Untrue. But your pa, he loved her more’n anything in this world. He’d’ve done anything for her. He almost died for her. Selfish little bitch.” She didn’t sound angry, more like she was reading it from a book. 

Justus had never heard this story before. “The Pit took her?”

Mama breathed out and nodded, still looking up into the sky. “It called for her, and she tried to hide her jug face. Dawai didn’t even know he made it. Wasn't his fault. Even if he’d been a smart man, it’s the Pit what does the calling, not the potter. He wouldn’t’ve known. Four people died afore she gave up the jug and did her duty. They staked Dawai out for the Pit, but it wouldn’t take him. Wouldn’t take her neither, not till she stood up and gave herself to it. Only good thing she ever did.”

“Why’d they try to give Pa up?”

“He took her into town. Or she took him, whatever. He tried to help her get away. Your pa wasn’t a smart man, and he was in love, which makes men even dumber than usual.” She took another drag and he could see tears glittering in her eyes in the last of the light.

“He loved you,” said Justus without much conviction. Pa had spent most of his time in the shed, listening to his records. Justus had gone out there to be with him. Mama never had.

“No he didn’t,” said Mama. “I didn’t love him neither. I laid with him, as was my duty, but there wasn't no love between us. He gave himself to Ada, heart and soul. Wasn't nothing left for no one else. Except you.” She gave him a sudden, brilliant smile. “After Ada, you was his favorite thing in all the world.”

That broke Justus open. He couldn’t keep the tears back. “Maybe he’s happy now,” he said thickly. “But I ain’t. I miss him, Mama. I wish… I wish the Pit had took someone else. Why cain’t it leave us alone?”

Mama pulled Justus close and put a hand over his mouth. “Shush now. You don’t mean that. He don’t mean that,” she said to the air. 

Justus did mean it. He hated the Pit; this was just the first time he’d admitted it to himself. It took and took, and what did it give? When Mama let him go, it was all he could do to keep his mouth shut and not shout his anger and pain to the skies.

To distract himself, he asked the question uppermost in his mind. “If you didn’t love him, why’d you join with him?”

“Ah, baby,” she said, and ruffled his hair. “He didn’t want to ask. Loriss wanted him to go to the Pit, but it didn’t want him then. And with Bodey dead, Jessaby dead, by that time there wasn't no one else. I was almost twenty, and Tenner wasn't but nine. By the time he was old enough, I’d be too old for bearing babies. So they made Dawai and me join. I was fine with it, tell you the truth. He wasn't mean; he never laid hand on me or you. Just spent all his time in that damn shed and made the jugs. Coulda been much, much worse. I was blessed with you, and that was all I wanted.”

It was almost full dark by now. Justus couldn’t hardly see the mound of dirt that lay like a blanket over Pa, asleep beneath it. “What happens when the Pit takes me?” His voice was bleak in the cold air. 

Mama didn’t answer. Her fingers clutched tight as iron around his arm. He let out a sound, but it only made her grip tighter. “Mama, you’re hurting me.”

She breathed through her teeth, gradually relaxing her grip until he could pull his arm away and rub it. “If it comes, it comes,” she said. It was too dark to read the expression on her face. Impulsively, Justus hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder like he was a little boy again. She held him. He felt her tears on his neck, and she pressed a sob into his hair.


	3. While We All Sup Sorrow

The chirping of birds woke Justus earlier than he was used to. He had one moment’s contented peace before remembrance came back, and he curled around his belly like he could protect himself from the rending of grief. “Cain’t cry,” he whispered, rocking forward and back, “cain’t cry, stop it, stop your crying and get up.” 

It took him another minute before he could uncurl from the pain. His eyes stung. He pulled on his jeans while Mama banged around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready like always. He came out and sat at the table and didn’t look at the empty chair sitting in the corner, facing the wall. 

Mama slid three fried eggs onto his plate, gave him a scoop of potatoes and a couple pieces of bacon. They ate in silence, broken only when Mama cleared her throat and said “So what’ll you be doing today?”

Justus hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Maybe go to the shed,” he said. “I want to make sure Pa’s jug ain’t been broke. Maybe take a look at the wheel.”

“Might be someone’s gonna want it for themself.”

“Might be,” Justus agreed and stood up. “Best make sure it’s working, then.”

“Guess so.” Mama stared into her coffee. She didn’t look up when Justus left.

The air in the shed felt still. Stale, like it’d been left empty for years and only now was opened up again. Pa’s jug sat on the floor where Martel had left it after the ceremony. He should’ve been more careful, Justus thought, and picked up the jug, cradling it in his hands. “He should’ve been respectful,” he said out loud. “You didn’t break none of the jugs you made. He could’ve cracked you wide open.”

Pa’s face looked at him silently. No glasses, his hair and beard suggested only by curls carved into the clay. What had he felt when the fog cleared from his eyes and he took his jug out of the oven? Fear? Sadness? Relief? Could’ve been any of those things. Could’ve been none of them. Maybe he didn’t feel nothing at all. He hadn’t looked no different when he took it to Martel and Martel blew the horn. Hadn’t said a word when Martel showed everyone, just took his place and let Martel do what had to be done.

Justus placed the jug on the shelf with the others. They were lined up in rows, men and women, and children here and there. His stomach clenched. He didn’t want Pa with the rest, shoved to the back when the new jugs were made. He placed Pa’s jug on the wheel for the moment and turned to the record player.

Pa hadn’t never let him touch it. Justus had stopped asking when he was about eight. Pa let him stay, though, and Justus liked to sit out on the step and watch Pa work. Now he ran his fingers over the records, titles he knew like his own name and singers he’d counted as friends. He chose one at random and put it on the record player. 

The music that came out was familiar, and it made his stomach twist. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut to get ahold of himself. If he couldn’t have his old life back, and he couldn’t, best he got used to things as they were now. A man didn’t cry over what he’d lost. 

When he got control again, his gaze fell on the table by the record player. It was new, or at least he didn’t remember it from when he was a boy. There was a jug face on it, and a candle at each corner. The candles were burned almost to nothing, slumped like they’d given up all hope. He picked up the jug, a pretty young girl staring with her lips parted. He felt the sudden urge to smash her to the floor. She’d killed four with her selfishness, and in the end it wasn’t no use, she died anyway. She’d have taken Pa with her if the Pit hadn’t left him alone right then. 

If Pa’d left with her, Justus wouldn’t be standing here right now. The thought was strange, but didn’t bother him as much as it could. Might be for the best, actually; he wouldn’t be hurting like he was. He thought of peace. 

A knock at the door made him jump, and he almost dropped Ada after all. He turned to see Caleb with his back to the morning sun, blond hair haloed like lightning. Justus glanced down. Caleb came in and stood, shifting his weight back and forth, not saying nothing. Finally, “I’m sorry. He was a good man.”

Justus swallowed and looked away. “Yeah.”

Caleb came closer. “You gonna be all right?”

“Gotta be. Ain’t no other way. Besides, he’s in a better place. He’s with the Pit now, and he’ll be happy. So.” Justus shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Caleb didn’t say nothing. Justus felt his presence like fire. He flashed on the last time he saw Caleb. They’d raced through the woods, yelling at each other, laughing. Hadn’t felt strange like it did now. Crazy how losing someone changed things. Changed everything.

“Who’s that?” asked Caleb.

Justus looked at the jug clutched in his hands. “Her? No one. Gone a long time back.” He placed Ada back on the table. 

Caleb nodded, looking away toward the door. “Came to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“About me.” Caleb took a deep breath. “Ailish and me, we’re gonna be joined.”

The words floated in the air and landed on the table between them. Caleb looked at Justus like he was begging him to say something, but it took a minute for Justus to find his voice. “She ain’t but thirteen, Cale.”

“Yeah. Her mama, though, she says she’s ready. No reason to wait, she says.” Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets. 

Justus couldn’t believe it. “Where’re you gonna live?” It sounded lame even to his ears. There was so much more he wanted to say, but it all stuck in his throat and choked him. He picked Ada back up and gripped her tight.

“Grandma’s doing poorly. They’ll put her in my room, and me and Ailish can take the trailer. I just gotta get it fixed up some. Cain’t bring a girl to a home without no water, right?” His eyes seemed greener than they ever had before. 

Justus had heard of plenty of homes without running water, but might be that Caleb wanted better for his bride. He couldn’t look at his friend. “Guess not.” He swallowed. “When?”

“Next week, unless the Pit says otherwise.” Caleb cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Will you… will you come?”

It felt like he’d punched Justus. “I dunno,” he almost snarled. “You sure you want me there with your pretty little wife? Maybe I’ll drink too much shine, start talkin’ about things not fit for a child’s ears. You gonna risk that?”

“Damn, Justus. That was a long time ago.”

“That was two months ago!”

“It’s different now! Things are different! Besides, what we did then, that was kid stuff. Just boys bein’ boys. Why you even wanna bring it up?” Caleb ran his fingers through his hair, and it stood on end. “It was fun, but we gotta do what we gotta do. Time to be a man, both you and me. You’ll have to join too--”

“Not right now, no I won’t--”

“--and we’ll still be friends, and it’ll go on almost like before. Come on, Justus.” Caleb gave him a pleading look. 

Justus’s fingers tightened around the jug’s handle. Caleb didn’t see. “Zellie’s comin’ on, she’ll be sixteen in a couple months. She’s gettin’ a nice little body on her.”

“Hush up with that talk.”

Caleb ignored him. “We need babies, you know we need babies, there ain’t been but two in the last couple years. I’ll talk to Pa, tell him you’re lookin’ at her--”

“I ain’t!” Justus slammed the jug onto the table, and Caleb jumped. “I ain’t lookin’ at no one,” Justus growled. “Got it? Nobody.”

Caleb looked like he was about to say something, but his breath went out of him and he nodded. “Okay, Justus. Still. You should come, next week.”

Without the jug to hold, Justus’s hands felt like they had too many fingers. He clasped them behind his back. “I’ll think on it.”

“Well. All right then.” With one last look, Caleb left the shed. Justus could hear his feet swish through the long grass as he left the path. He looked down at the jug. There was a crack by Ada’s left eye, spreading outward like a spiderweb. He put her back in the ring of candles gently, reverently. He picked Pa up and placed him beside her. The record still crooned on, men singing about waves and endless summer. Justus struck a match and lit the candles, then sat down at the wheel and began idly nudging it with his foot. A bucket of clay covered in a wet towel was beside him. He scooped out a lump, wet his fingers with the slip still left from Pa’s work yesterday, and began to spin.


	4. Wear Them Rattling Chains

It was near winter when Justus sat on the front porch, staring, and slowly came back to himself. It was later than he remembered. The oven was smoking.

The oven was smoking.

He stood up and walked over, lightheaded, already knowing what he’d see. He pulled the corrugated tin from the mouth of the oven and looked inside. Mayra looked back at him with sightless eyes. He straightened, walked calmly to the side of the path, and threw up. He should have known. He should have known. His throat burned and his eyes streamed. Of course it was him.

Justus turned his back on the oven and looked out at the trees. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t make the choice. “The Pit wants what it wants,” he whispered, and tried not to think of Mayra’s four kids. 

When the jug cooled, Justus went to get Martel. Martel came to the door, all full of honesty and goodwill, until he got a look at Justus’s face. “It’s me,” Justus said, even though it was obvious. He indicated the rag-wrapped bundle in his arms. “I’m the potter. It’s calling.”

Martel sighed once, looking down. He held his hand out for the jug, and Justus gave it to him. “Awful soon since last time,” Martel said.

Justus shrugged. “Almost a year.” He put his hands in his pockets and shifted. “Time to blow the horn, I guess.”

“I guess,” said Martel. He started down the path for the Pit, and Justus followed.

The horn sounded its deep voice out over the forest, and the few remaining birds flew out of the trees to screech at the people below. Everyone gathered quickly, faces nervous or expectant. Martel stepped forward and held out the jug. “Let it be known,” he proclaimed, “that the Pit has spoken.”

Lela screamed and began to cry. Mayra’s face went gray, but she kept her feet. “It’s okay, baby,” she said. Lela grabbed her around her waist. “Mama, no! No, Mama, no!” The baby began to cry.

“Hush up, now,” said Mayra harshly. “You’re a big girl. You hush up and mind your brother.” She looked at Dan. “Take care of your sisters, hear me?”

Dan nodded and grabbed hold of Lela, who kept up her crying. He shook her shoulder. “Hush now. The Pit wants what it wants. Best get used to it.”

Mayra’s face was set as she walked over to Martel. “It is an honor to be chosen to be with the Pit,” he said, words passed down for more than a hundred years. “Today you will pass from this world into its. Do you give yourself to it?”

“I do,” Mayra said through tight lips, and knelt. Martel pulled the sacred knife and dragged it across her throat. Lela screamed. The choking was horrible, a gagging sound that went on and on as the blood poured from Mayra’s throat and her eyes fluttered shut.

It was done. “Go now,” said Martel, “with your hearts beating strong, and know that our pact continues.” The men gathered up the body, and Dan trailed after, the other kids in tow. Justus turned away. It was the Pit that called, it wasn’t his fault, but Mayra’s jug lay on the ground, her eyes staring at him in accusation. He picked her up and started back for home, but Caleb stood in his way, and Justus flinched back.

Ailish was with him, face pale and drawn, mouth outlined in red lipstick. Justus looked away at the ground. Caleb cleared his throat. “It was the Pit’s choice,” he said, and Justus hated him in that moment, hated him for knowing what Justus was thinking and feeling while Ailish stood right there. “Yeah,” was all Justus could say, and it was miracle enough that he could get that out.

“Ailish's mama, she’s--” Caleb stopped and started again. “She's got a baby comin' in a couple weeks. Ailish is gonna go help. I know you and me ain’t talked much in a while, but if you’d come sit with me then…”

“We’d be purely grateful,” Ailish put in. Her voice was thin and wavering, and she looked like she was about to fall over right there. “Caleb told me--”

“Told you what?” Justus broke in, thick and ugly. 

She was patient. “You ain’t been talking in a while. I know that’s cause of me, and I’m sorry for it. I thought if you came while Mama's having the baby, you two might could catch up.”

Justus felt suddenly ashamed at how much he’d hated her and Caleb both. It wasn’t their fault, any more than making the jugs was his. They all did what they had to do. The Pit wanted what it wanted, and that was an end of it.

“I’ll come,” he promised. The hesitant smile on Caleb’s face made Justus feel better than he had since before Pa died.

*

It was two years before Justus fired another jug face. As his eyes cleared, he breathed a sigh of relief. Silas was near eighty, half-blind and deaf, and didn’t do nothing but sit on his porch drooling most of the time. It was the best choice anyone could hope for.

They all gathered at the Pit, solemn and silent. Ailish shushed the baby in her arms when it began to cry. Silas went to his death without a word. Justus caught the nervous glances in his direction, but kept his eyes on the Pit and didn’t look back. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his choice. 

Caleb laid his hand on Justus’s shoulder as they walked back. “The Pit wants what it wants,” he said. Justus heard what was behind his words, and breathed a little bit easier.

*

“I truly don’t know what possessed you,” said Mama as she spread the Pit clay over Justus’s arm. He groaned through his teeth. “You know better’n to reach in the oven. A baby’d know better. A grown man, there ain’t no excuse.”

He couldn’t tell her why, couldn’t say _I thought it happened again, I had to know why, I had to know who._ It was too soon after the last one. He’d been listening to the music, hadn’t paid no attention to what he was doing till the smoke came out of the chimney and he came back to himself. 

It wasn’t even a jug. It was a plate, painted with a ring of trees seen from above, and glazed with a dark green wash that suggested deepest shadow. It made him cold to look at it. He must be going crazy, throwing and painting and firing without even seeing what he was doing. He didn’t have the excuse of the Pit. It wasn’t no one’s doing but his own, and if anyone saw it, there might be questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. Because it was the Pit’s clearing. But there wasn’t no Pit to be seen.

Mama slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Quit your squirming. It’ll be better in a second.” And as she spoke, the pain of the burns receded to a dull throb, and in another minute was gone altogether. Justus took a deep breath and began to brush the dried clay off his skin. It was healed, pale freckled skin as if it’d never been touched. 

He buried the plate. And the next one he made, and the next, and the next.

*

Little Fate was fourteen years old and shrieking with fear. His pa, Big Fate, broke down into sobs and crumpled to the leaf-strewn ground as Revin held the boy down across the stump and Martel did what he had to do. Even after Little Fate’s life had bled into the rippling water of the Pit, his screams seemed to echo round the clearing. No one’s eyes were dry, not even Martel’s. “It’s hard,” he said. “I know it’s hard sometimes. We have to trust it’s for the best. He’s in a better place now, happy like none can imagine. Praise the Pit.”

“Praise the Pit,” they all said, except Big Fate who was crying too hard to talk. He wouldn’t get up and go with them. Justus was last to leave. “I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t enough. He knew that. “I’m purely sorry, Fate.”

Fate shook his head and wouldn’t look at him. “Leave me be, Justus. Maybe it ain’t your fault, but… just leave me be. I don’t want to see you. Not ever again.” He moaned and bent over, clutching his belly as if being ripped apart from the inside.

Justus left. Fate’s cries echoed in his ears long after he’d gone.

*

 _No,_ he wanted to say when the world grew white around him once again. _No, please. No more. It’s enough. Why ain’t it enough?_


	5. A Land of Deepest Shade

The jug face was Mama. Justus stared at it blankly, feeling nothing. He could hide it. He thought about it, but only for a second. He might could destroy it, even, smash it with a hammer and bury the pieces or throw them in the creek. 

The curve of her cheek was near living warmth against his palm. Her eyes stared back at him, and he couldn’t tell if they held understanding or sorrow or pity. Or if they begged him to try anything to save her. 

Pa sat on the shelf to his left. Justus turned to him and met Ada’s calm gaze. “You did it,” he said. For the first time, he understood what drove her. “Might be you were selfish. Might be I am too. I don’t want--” He swiped at his eyes. His voice shook when he spoke again. “She’s my mama.”

“Justus!” The shout made him jump. He almost dropped the jug. “I’m going fishing, you wanna come…” Caleb bounded into the shed and saw the jug. His voice died away. 

Justus looked up at him, hands shaking. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again. “Oh,” said Caleb, voice heavy with grief. “Oh, Justus.”

It broke Justus open. He bowed his head down and a deep groan burst from inside him. It was too great to put into words. Sobs ripped out of him, and he gripped the jug in his hands for dear life. _No. No, take it back, you old Pit, take it back and leave me be._ Caleb crouched down and put his arms around Justus. Justus leaned into it, pressing himself against Caleb like he once had, back when all there was to worry about was getting caught and whipped. Caleb murmured nonsense syllables into his hair that gradually resolved into words. “It’s all right, Justus, it’s all right, I’m here, it’ll all be all right.” Justus shook his head, but Caleb held him hard against his chest and repeated it until Justus’s sobs turned to whimpers and the front of Caleb’s shirt was soaked. Justus pulled back and looked into Caleb’s face.

He lunged for Caleb, and Caleb met him, lips pressing together like they were drowning. Justus scrabbled at the hem of his shirt, and they broke apart just long enough to pull them over their heads and for Caleb to kick the door shut. Neither of them spoke. Wasn’t nothing could be said, anyway, and it was better to kiss and run hands over each other, feeling skin damp with sweat and tears. Justus unbuttoned, and Caleb reached in and took him in hand. It’d been so long.

Justus got Caleb’s jeans halfway down his ass and let Caleb rut against him like a dog. He pressed his hips upward. They touched skin to skin, and Caleb swore and moved faster. Justus bit his wrist to stifle a groan. They rode together, sliding and dripping. Caleb stiffened first, swallowing a cry, and shot warm wetness onto Justus’s stomach. Justus didn’t last much longer, fist shoved into his mouth, his hips stuttering and jerking until they collapsed underneath Caleb’s warm bulk. For a minute they lay together, breathing hard in the dimness, while dust swirled above them in the beams of light from the holes in the corrugated tin.

Caleb sat up first and began awkwardly rebuckling his belt. He didn’t say nothing. Neither did Justus. There wasn’t nothing to be said. They didn’t look at each other as they redressed and Justus picked up the jug where it’d rolled under the table. The weight was still there like a stone in his belly, but there was also a calmness he hadn’t felt before.

Caleb opened the door. “I’m sorry,” he said. Justus didn’t ask if it was for Mama or for what they’d just done. He only nodded and watched Caleb leave.

*

It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, showing Mama. She wasn’t supposed to know until Martel revealed it, but Justus purely wouldn’t do that to her. Her eyes widened when she saw it, and he watched the emotions chase over her face, surprise and fear and grief, but when she turned her eyes back to him, all he saw was love. “Oh, baby,” she said. “Oh, my poor boy.”

Justus thought he was all cried out, but when he held Mama and let her muffle her sobs in his shoulder, he found there were more tears to be had. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered in her ear. “Mama, it’ll be okay.”

*

He went to the Pit with everyone else. He wouldn’t leave Mama to face it alone. When Martel asked if she had anything to say, she cleared her throat and looked straight at Justus.

“I know none of y’all thought much of Dawai. And I understand. He wasn’t too bright, and he got hisself in trouble as deep as any can be found. But he was a good husband to me, and a good father to our boy. And that boy-- Justus, you were the best thing I ever done. I’m real proud of you. Stay strong.” She didn’t look away as she knelt and bent over the stump, and neither did Justus until long after her choking gasps had ended and she laid blank-eyed by the Pit.

*

After they buried her, Justus was left alone. He sat until nightfall, silent and bowed, then got up, went to the house, and picked up the bag he’d packed. He walked into the woods and left the village behind.


	6. Caused Me to Weep

Justus scuffed down the road, his eyes fixed on the yellow line beneath his feet. The bag had gotten heavier the further he went on, and now its straps were chafing his shoulders so hard he expected to see blood oozing onto his shirt. He shifted it and walked on. Wind rattled in the trees that stretched their limbs over the road. Justus shivered, though it was warm and the sun shone. 

He walked on and on for what felt like a thousand miles. His head was too heavy to lift, and the few cars that passed swerved around him. The horns didn’t make him look up. He trudged along, intent on a destination even he didn’t know where to find.

Eventually, a car pulled up on his right, with blue and red lights flashing in the corner of his eye. He ignored it and went on. It kept pace with him, and he heard the window roll down. “Heard there was a damn fool walking right in the middle of the road. Guess I found him.”

“Guess so,” Justus said, plodding along.

“You know you can’t do that. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t move aside, I’m gonna have to take you in.”

Justus shrugged. Didn’t matter where he was, long as he was far away from home. “Do what you gotta do.”

There was a sigh, the siren whooped once, and the police car pulled ahead and blocked his path. Justus stopped when he got there. He felt the man’s eyes on him, but kept his head stubbornly down.

“I gotta cuff you?”

Justus shook his head. The cop opened the door. “Get in.” Justus slid into the back seat and stared down at his hands as the man slammed his own door, said something into the hissing radio, and drove away.

*

They brought him to a room with hard white tile and a table with a ring bolted in the top. The cop waved him to a seat, hard plastic with feet that screeched when he pulled it out. Justus didn’t look at the cop, or at the other man who came in and closed the door. He felt empty, as if the Pit had sucked everything out of him and left him a hollow shell. He didn’t know what would happen next. Wasn’t sure it mattered anyway.

“I’m Officer Bryan,” said the cop. “This is my partner, Officer Carter. You want to tell us your name?”

Justus stared at the ring in the table, reached out to touch it.

“Son? What’s your--”

“Ain’t your son.” Justus hadn’t meant to speak. He still didn’t look up at Bryan.

“What’s that?” Bryan leaned forward.

Justus stared harder at the ring. “I said, I ain’t your son. Don’t call me that.”

There was a pause. “Well, okay,” Bryan said. “Want to give me your name so I can call you that instead?”

He cleared his throat. “Justus Castell.”

Bryan nodded. “Okay, Justus. You’re from back of beyond, aren’t you?”

Justus’s eyes flicked up to him, then back to the table. He shrugged. Bryan seemed to take it as an answer. “What’re you doing out here, Justus? Trouble at home?” 

Justus puffed out a laugh. Bryan waited for an answer, and finally Justus said “I can go where I want. Ain’t no law says I have to stay where I was born. I wanted to leave.”

“Well, no,” said Bryan. “No law. Just that we don’t usually see any of you unless you’re coming in to do some buying and selling. You don’t look like you got anything to sell.”

Justus shrugged again. 

“Should we call someone for you?” Carter asked. “We can call Martel.”

“No.” It came out louder than Justus had meant to. “No. I thank you, but don’t do that. I ain’t going back.”

The cops exchanged glances. “You want to tell us why?” Bryan finally asked.

Justus didn’t. “Ain’t no law,” he said again. 

Bryan sighed. “Son--”

“Ain’t your son!”

“Sorry. Justus. Thing is, y’all back there keep yourselves to yourselves, and that’s fine, I got no problem with that. But I never heard of one of you leaving before. Yeah, there’s no law against it, but it might create some problems between y’all and us here. Problems no one needs. Understand?”

They weren’t going to leave it. They were going to call Martel, and they’d drag Justus back and give him to the Pit, and he could tell himself he didn’t care none, but truth was he hated that Pit with all his heart and if they gave him to it, he’d be stuck in the Pit’s world for eternity. Lifetime after lifetime, and if the Pit hated him him as much as he hated it, he’d rather die shunned and wander the woods forever after. His desperation rose up inside him and made him speak without meaning to. “It took my pa. The Pit took my pa, and my mama, and if you make me go back it’ll take me too. Or maybe it’ll just keep me making jugs the rest of my life, and I’ll have to watch all their throats get cut. I cain’t. I cain’t see all that blood and keep from going crazy.”

Carter and Bryan stared at him like he’d told them the sun was going out. “You want a glass of water?” Carter asked, and Justus could’ve laughed at the look on his face.

“I ain’t crazy. Not now. If you let me go, I’ll be all right. But if you send me back there, I will go purely out of my mind, if they don’t kill me first.” He twined his fingers in the ring. “If the Pit calls for me, Martel is gonna hold me down and slit my throat like a pig while everyone watches. Even if it don’t, he might do it anyway.”

Both men sat stunned. Justus stood up, and Carter flinched back. “I ain’t done nothing,” said Justus, “and you got no cause to keep me here. I’m gonna go now.”

Before he could take a step, Carter was on his feet. “No,” he said. “No, Justus, you are gonna sit down and tell us more about people getting their throats cut. That’s what happened to your parents?”

Justus eyed him. “Why? What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m the law.” Carter crossed his arms. “If there’s murder going on back there, we need to know about it so we can bring in those responsible.”

Justus laughed sharply. “That ain’t gonna happen. The Pit won’t stand for it. You go back there, it’ll take you too.”

“Both of you sit down,” said Bryan. “I don’t want to do anything until I know all the facts. What’re you talking about with this Pit thing?”

He told them. He spilled the entire story, all the way back to the beginning with the pox and the priest and the Pit saving them from their doom. He told them about being the potter, and the rituals there at the edge of the Pit. About the jugs lining the walls of his shed. The men and women, little children, babies the Pit had called for. He talked until his eyes were wet and his throat was sore, and they sat there and listened to it all.

And they didn’t believe him.

He could tell from their sidelong glances at each other. How Carter rolled his eyes when Justus told them about knowing the Pit was awake when he saw the water ripple. How Bryan’s eyebrows rose when Justus talked about the shunned, doomed to walk the forest forever alone. He talked until he ran out of words, and all that happened was that Bryan stood up and said “All right, Justus. That’s enough, now. It’s getting late; you can sleep here tonight and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Justus got dinner from Carter, a roast beef sandwich from a shop down the street with a bottle of water to wash it down. Carter closed the cell door, but didn’t lock it. Before Bryan left, he came to look in on Justus. “You just ask the officer on duty if you need anything else. I’ll be back tomorrow. You want me to bring you anything when I come in?”

Justus eyed him. “Are you gonna call Martel?”

“No.” Bryan gave him a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “Not as long as you stay here and don’t make trouble.”

“I won’t.” Justus looked away. He listened to Bryan’s footsteps and the clash of the barred door as it closed. His eyes were gritty. He put his head in his hands and sighed. They didn’t believe him now, but might be they would tomorrow, if he told them more. Might be they could do something. If they arrested Martel, took the knife away, might be everyone could leave, and the Pit would be left there in the woods all alone. They could be safe. Everyone could be safe. His breath trembled at that thought. His heart began to race. His head snapped back-- something was wrong, he couldn’t breathe--

A white veil shrouded his vision as he fell to the floor.


	7. Come Walk With Me Through the Pines

Justus’s head hurt like it’d flown into pieces. He reached his hands up to pull them back together, but his own touch made him flinch and hiss. He tasted tears at the corners of his mouth. His mind throbbed to make sense of what he’d seen. Justus knew better than to think he had dreamed it, or that he was making it up. The Pit was angry, and it was vengeful, and now three little girls were without their Pa and Ailish was wailing in a high, thin voice full of agony.

**Go back.**

A young woman with long blond hair sat in the corner of the cell, legs pulled up to her chest. Her eyes were smeared and dark, and a black mist sat on her. **It’s angry. You have to go back.**

Justus squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, she was still there. “I ain’t going,” he said, pain crashing against his skull. “Ain’t never going back. It can pick a new potter. I’m through, hear me?”

**You cain’t leave. It won’t let you.**

Felt like a drill was driving right into his brain. “You tell it to leave me be. I ain’t the jug face. It never called for me, and it ain’t never gonna get me now.”

**Look what’s happened. Look what you’ve done.**

“Wasn’t me!” Justus felt like he was screaming, but all that came out was a whisper. “What the Pit does, it ain’t my doing. All it done is take, take take from me. Now I got nothing left, and if that Pit thinks it can make me come home, it can go fuck itself!”

**It won’t stop with him. There are more. It will take them all, and then it will take you too.**

“No.” He clasped his hands tight to his head and shook it in denial. “Go away. You go back to the Pit and tell it it cain’t have me now. Cain’t make me come home. Ain’t nothing left for me to come back to.”

Her voice whispered at Justus all night. He wrapped his arms around his head but couldn’t shut her out, and she sat there, staring and whispering, until he managed to fall asleep in spite of her.


	8. There’ll Be Signs and Wonders

Justus woke up on the floor, aching everywhere and with a foul taste in his mouth. He squinted up at the rattling cell door. That cop-- Carter-- stood there with a tray that he set on the ground. He frowned at Justus. “You all right?”

Justus winced as he tried to sit up. “Yeah. What’s that?”

“Breakfast. You sure you’re all right?”

“Never better.” Justus coughed. His stomach rolled over at the thought of eating. “Time is it?”

“Thought you backwoods boys got up early. It’s eight o’clock.” Carter pushed the tray over with his foot. Justus moved back, sick from the smell of bacon. “Ain’t hungry? Don’t mind if I do, then.” Carter sat on the bunk and started to eat.

Justus concentrated on keeping his head from falling apart. He let the pain blot out the memory of Caleb’s bloody body, taken to pieces and spilled onto the ground. His hair had been bright like lightning once, his eyes as green as summer leaves. “I cain’t--” He scrambled for the cell’s toilet, spat out bile and knelt there shaking. 

“Hung over, huh? That shine’s got a bite like a cottonmouth. Never understood how you folk could drink it, but it’s mighty popular around here.” Carter took a mouthful of biscuit, chewed and swallowed. 

Justus spat again and wiped sweat off his forehead. “Honestly,” said Carter, “I don’t much blame you for running off. Where were you thinking on going?”

“Dunno.” Justus’s voice was a rasp. “Away from here.”

“Can’t get too far on foot. And if you don’t have money, it’s mighty hard to get yourself food or shelter. Were you gonna sleep in the woods?”

“If I have to. Done it before.” 

“Not worried that Pit of yours might reach out and snatch you back?”

That was a thought that hadn’t occurred to Justus, though it should’ve. His stomach clenched again, but he held it down. Carter went on talking. “That was one hell of a story, boy. Ought to write for one of those TV shows. If I thought some Pit was killing my family, I’d probably run away too. Course, I’d plan it out a little better. Maybe bring something into town to sell, get the money and take a bus to Nashville or somewhere. Atlanta, maybe. Big city like that, how’s some backwoods Pit gonna find you?” He snorted. “Maybe you’re a little smarter than I think. Maybe you brought something with you to sell, maybe some of that shine that’s got you sick today.”

“No shine,” Justus said. “I got these, though.” He hauled his bag up and opened it. Plate after plate he lay on the floor, some small like saucers, some big as a turkey platter. Each one showed the clearing, trees tall around it, ground smooth and unbroken. 

Carter whistled through his teeth. “Guess you are a potter at that. You could go talk to Felice over at the library. She’s always talking about local art; she might be able to tell you where to sell it. Rich people pay out the nose for stuff they say is authentic. With your story, they’d probably eat you up with a spoon.”

“Yeah?” Justus’s headache was, impossibly, getting worse. “Y’all gonna let me go on my way, then?”

“Got no call to keep you. But Bryan wants to talk to you again before you leave. That was one hell of a story. We’d like to hear it one more time.”

“I told you everything I could.” Pain was pulsing in Justus’s head, stronger and stronger. He couldn’t feel his fingers. “I got-- got nothing--” White sheeted down over his vision. From a distance he heard Carter hollering. 

Martel was hollering, shrieking like a woman as something speared into his neck and blood shot out. An arm fell onto the grass. His body dragged across the ground, voice gone but eyes horribly, terribly alive and full of fear. There was a distant crack, and pain raced through Justus’s arm. He heard himself scream. The vision blurred; the shunned girl stood over him, mist swirling around them both. 

**You’re killing them all.**

“No!” Justus’s back arched impossibly. “Not-- not me, no, no--” He screamed again as another convulsion ripped through him.

**Don’t do this. Go back while you still can.**

“Go away.” Justus’s body went lax and he gasped for breath. “You go away and tell that Pit that I ain’t going back, I ain’t never going back. It takes everything, it takes _everything._ I won’t let it have me too.”

“He’s hallucinating.” A needle stung his arm. “Justus, can you hear me? We’re taking you to the hospital. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”

Justus opened his eyes. The shunned girl looked at him with tears running down her white-clay face. “Go,” he croaked. Then it all went white again.

Tali seemed to see it coming. She turned and ran, calling for her pa, but she tripped and it was the end of her. Her wail turned into a gurgle and her legs flopped before falling still. 

“I need fifty milligrams--”

Betha didn’t know what was happening when it got her. She stared up, hypnotized, and didn’t make a sound.

“He’s coding. Get the paddles.”

Dan fell to the earth, blood coming from his ear. 

“Clear!”

 **Don’t do this.** The shunned girl was sobbing now. **It’ll kill everyone. They’ll all be shunned; they’ll never see the world beyond, just walk alone and lost forever and ever like me. Justus. Please.**

“I. Will. Not.” Justus heaved in what breath he could. “Caleb--”

There was a loud crack.

There was nothing more.


	9. One By One They Went Away

Dusk had fallen when Tawnee finished. Fireflies were blinking in the hazy leftovers of the day, and the sunset was a vague glow among the trees. No one moved. Drake broke the silence with “Jesus, Tawnee.”

“What?” Tawnee asked. 

“What the fuck kind of story was that?” said Diane. “I mean, fuck. Killing little kids.” She was shaking, and burrowed into Mike’s side. He stroked her hair, murmured something to her.

“Scary is one thing, but that was just plain wrong.” Melody sounded angry. 

Tawnee gave a confused frown. “You said you wanted to hear the story. I just told you what my granddaddy told me.”

“Your granddaddy did _not_ tell you that. There is no way that ever happened,” said Melody, and yeah, she really was angry. “How would he even know? Pits and people being ripped apart and shit like that, it’s a stupid story he made up to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Tawnee pointed out. “I just thought it was sad. That poor boy.”

“Come on, baby, you’re just scared of the dark,” Mike said to Diane, a laugh lurking in his voice.

Diane slugged him. “I am not. Fuck you. That was just really weird and gross and kind of a shitty thing to talk about like it actually happened. I hate stories that do that.”

“It happened like it happened,” said Tawnee, sounding more sober and more insistent than Drake had heard her be about anything else. “It’s not my fault. You wanted to hear it so I told you, and if you can’t handle it, then fuck you too.” She got up. “I’m gonna go home. I told my mom I’d be back for dinner.”

“Yeah, we should go too.” Diane kept hold of Mike’s hand and pulled his arm back around her when they were on their feet. 

Drake pulled Melody up, and when she tightened her fingers around his, his heart skipped. “You heading home?”

“Thought I would.” Her brown eyes glinted in the last of the light. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Drake had a million better ideas, but settled on “We could go for pizza. Maybe over in Brookville?”

Melody smiled. “That sounds great.” Drake grinned, but before he could say anything, she peered over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” He turned around but couldn’t see anything. 

“I thought I saw…” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she breathed, and it fell upon them.


End file.
